


Hung by a Spider's Thread

by shadowdx118



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Suffering, kind of pushing it with how okay some things are in this but I think I don't step out of line, still it does push it quite a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowdx118/pseuds/shadowdx118
Summary: The prideful and arrogant prince is too easy to bend to his whims, but that won't stop Harle from twisting and warping Emile's emotions.





	Hung by a Spider's Thread

**Author's Note:**

> A Harle/Emile fic to express why I don’t like them as a couple and why it would go horribly wrong. If you feel uncomfortable while reading this, then I did my job. I /want/ you to feel uncomfortable. Harle is a terrible, manipulative, and cruel individual. He’ll use whoever he can manipulate until they’re broken and when they no longer can benefit him, he’ll toss them aside. If it even means enduring a relationship with Emile to get what he desires, he’ll do it. I personally have experience with having very emotionally dependent boyfriends who fell for me just because I was being “kind and empathetic” towards them when I was just being polite, and so this is a big what if. What if the person on the other end of your emotional dependency wasn’t as considerate and used and abused your trust and love?

3 PM sharp struck and the halls of the palace were oddly quiet save for the bells signifying the hour. Given its resident lord’s tendency to throw tantrums, the silence was most welcome to Harle. Nevertheless, he loved the little princeling… well, as much as a cat loved a hapless mouse, too weak to save itself. The chief of Alberia’s capital guard knew plenty of ways to charm his way into the hearts and minds of the influential. Much to Harle’s dismay, the idiot boy had been more than charmed, he had outright fallen in love.

“Will you stop mocking me?!” The prince had snapped at Harle a few weeks ago when the latter had provoked the boy a bit more than usual. “Everyone else in this godsforsaken castle make enough comments about me, I don’t need to hear them being parrotted back at me by the damned prodigy knight.”

Harle had given the boy an apologetic look. “Prince Emile, I didn’t mean to offend you. I had no idea that the denizens of the palace treated you so poorly.”

Rather than shouting in rage, as he usually would, Prince Emile just sighed and slumped to the ground. “Tch… no surprise there… even Father turns a blind eye to how I’m treated.”

Harle sat down next to the boy and Prince Emile went on to explain how some of the nobility were spreading some dreadful rumors about him, and how even the palace staff would intentionally forget he even existed or outright mistreat him.

“Ah, so that’s why you get angry at us for not treating you as royalty.” Harle had spoken in a tone of understanding. Harle did his best to create an air of empathy for the prince, explaining that he too struggled quite a bit, and was oft branded a demon for his heritage. Prince Emile’s delicate emotions seemed to rationalize that Harle was the only person who could understand, and so blossomed a desperate infatuation with the chief of the capital guard. 

That was all five weeks ago.

Now Harle was officially betrothed to the young prince after impulse had overridden the pathetic excuse for the boy’s logic. The age difference was a tad awkward, with Emile being merely 22 and Harle being 27, but, in truth, Harle had no interest in the boy, he never had. In fact, he was far more interested in what advancements his would-be husband would bring him. Prince Emile’s fragile emotions and oh-so-very desperate need for Harle’s affirmations made him the perfect puppet. Emile was already rather hopeless at ruling his land, so acting as both a loving and supportive fiance and a trusted and loyal advisor, meant that Harle could sway Emile’s actions with very little effort.

As Harle turned the page in his book, his most dearly beloved had entered their shared chambers in a huff. Looking up, he met Emile’s eyes with a look of concern and asked calmly, “What’s the matter, darling?”

“Phares. That’s what’s the matter.” Emile began pacing furiously.

_ Ah yes, of course. Emile’s older brother and former advisor… _ Harle folded the corner of page he was on and closed the book. With a soft smile, Harle wrapped his arms around the distraught prince, whispering in the boy’s ear. “My dear, I’m sure it’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

The prince turned his head to meet his betrothed’s gaze, almost lost in Harle’s calm yet understanding eyes. “You don’t understand—”

Harle released Emile from his embrace, looking very insulted. “I don’t?”

Instantly regretting his outburst, Emile was mortified. “N-No, I mean… I’m sorry, Harle. I-I didn’t mean that… I—Dammit, Harle! You know I say stupid things when I’m upset!”

Shaking his head, Harle smiled playfully, “I’m sorry, Emile. I riled you up when you were already upset. The fault is mine. Let’s start over, shall we? What’s Phares doing that has you so upset? Do I need to step in, my little bird?”

“No, no, it’s not that bad now that I think about it.” Emile found himself lost in Harle’s crimson gaze. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”

With the grace of a dancer, Harle spun Emile around and pulled the young prince in, their faces mere inches away from each other. Emile felt himself becoming flushed and tried to look away. Harle used his free hand to gently force the prince to make eye contact. “Oh, you’re much too adorable when you’re flustered.”

If Emile wasn’t bright red before, he most certainly was now. Harle’s hand was like ice against his skin, but it didn’t make him recoil. In fact, it felt quite soothing. Almost reading his mind, Harle delicately traced his fingers down Emile’s face. The prince’s skin was soft and warm and untouched by any scars.  _ Ah, how fortunate he is to be so sheltered, _ Harle mused as he brushed the princeling’s golden hair away.  _ So innocent… and yet so tormented… and he’s all mine. _

Emile desired to bring Harle closer yet… he longed for the shroud of chilling warmth the raven seemed to always be surrounded by. “Harle…”

Meeting the prince’s gaze, Harle knew exactly what Emile was about to ask. A smile began to creep onto his expression, his eyes were ravenous and yet tranquil. “You need only ask, my little bird,” his words sweeter than honey.

“Please…” Desperation danced on the edge of Emile’s tone. He reached out, and Harle immediately took Emile’s hand in his and kissed it lovingly. 

“I’m yours to command…” Harle’s voice melodically teased.  _ Ah, too easy… he makes it too easy. Come now, Emile, at least make this fun for me _ .

Emile’s words got caught in his throat and nodded. He could’ve sworn he saw Harle roll his eyes, but it didn’t matter. He only wanted Harle… the only one who made him feel like he was worth something in this miserable world. 

Harle slowly pushed Emile back towards their bed, slowly and deliberately removing the prince’s garments, leaving him only wearing his trousers. Even if Emile made it too easy, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to have some fun with the princeling.  _ Let’s see if I can teach you a little bit more about pain, my prince. _

Harle removed his trademark coat and armor. Kicking off his boots, he gently shoved Emile onto the bed, before climbing on top of the prince. Harle gently traced his fingers across Emile’s chest, bare and unsullied by the scars of battle. He could feel Emile recoil a bit at his touch. Harle couldn’t resist but smirk a bit. “Apologies, my love. Are my hands too cold?”

“N-No. I-I… it just startled me.” Emile’s face was bright red from embarrassment.

Harle chuckled playfully. “Then… do you mind if we play a little bit?”

“P-Play what?” Though he asked out of reflex, Emile knew what game Harle probably had in mind. He winced at the thought, but he was willing to put up with a little bit of pain. Harle did so much for him… it was the least he could do for everything the knight did for him.

Harle saw Emile’s hesitation. “If you don’t want to play, we won’t. Please, my dear, if you don’t like it, just say so.” He relaxed a bit, cocking his head to the side, like a disappointed child.

“It’s fine, Harle. I-I’ll be fine.” Emile spoke as firmly as he could.

Harle smiled coldly. “Then promise me, darling,” Harle lifted Emile’s chin up, forcing the prince to make eye contact. “Promise to speak up if it’s too much. I could never live with myself if I hurt you.” His voice filled with concerned desperation.

Emile nodded and Harle couldn’t stop a cruel smile from flitting across his face.  _ A shame about the sheets, but it can’t be helped… _ Harle’s hand went to his hip and from his belt, he brandished an ornate dagger.  _ Now… let’s see what kind of masterpiece I can make my darling little prince into this time. _ Harle mused to himself, sadistic glee threatening to overtake his usually collected composure as he traced the blade across the prince’s chest, leaving a thin line of red in its wake. Harle leaned in and whispered into Emile’s ear, “Try to not to make it so easy for me this time, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats, you made it to the end. Either that, or you skipped to the end to read the notes. I just wanted to ask how far you got into the piece. Two of the five or six beta readers I had couldn't finish reading it so I'd like to know if you could finish it or not. Also I'd like to know if I missed any warnings or tags.


End file.
